Page 51 of Billionaire Bachelor
A small podium sits to the side, sleek and minimalist, its surface uncluttered aside from a tablet. A woman stands beside it, wearing a black tuxedo blazer, a matching skirt, and a pair of bejeweled Louboutins that probably cost more than my rent. Her white-blonde hair is slicked back into a ponytail, and her lips are painted the exact shade of my favorite Bordeaux.
Her expression is cool and indecipherable, but when her gaze flicks to Logan, her lips curve in the barest hint of a smile. “Welcome to the Gilded Dagger, Mr. Edwards,” she purrs. “I’m Claudia, and I’ll be your concierge tonight. I see here you’d like to begin the evening with a table for two?”
He nods. “Yes, that’s correct.”
Her grin is in full effect now. “Right this way.”
I glance at Logan, arching a brow. “Come here often?”
“Not exactly,” he murmurs.
I narrow my eyes, but before I can question him further, Claudia’s swaying hips are leading us down a long, dim hallway, the rich scent of aged liquor and leather growing stronger with each step. The hall funnels into a dark and intimate bar, with vaulted ceilings and gold-plated moldings. It’s a magnificent blend of modern luxury and Gatsby-era charm. The patterned wallpaper carries into this space, barely lit by golden candelabras hung in equal intervals on the wall.
The bar itself is a work of art. Long and polished to perfection, its marble top gleaming beneath the dim glow of amber pendant lights. The front is lined with plush barstools, each spaced just enough to give patrons animpression of intimacywithout losing the social energy of the room. Behind the counter,rows of meticulously arranged bottles sparkle like jewels.I can’t read any of the labels under this moody lighting, but something tells me you won’t find any Jim Beam on those shelves.
A bartender, dressed in a tailored white shirt and crisp bowtie, moves with practiced precision, pouring the contents from a shaker into a martini glass, and garnishing it with something fancy.
Our hostess stops beside acurved leather booth tucked into a secluded corner.The seating in this place is unlike any bar I’ve ever been to. There are only aboutten tables in total, and each one is spaced so far from another, it’s clear privacy was a key consideration in the design.
“Here we are,” Claudia says smoothly, handing Logan aleather-bound padafter he slides in beside me. Rather than a traditional menu, a single sheet oflinen paper is attached, bearing a QR code.
“If you scan the code,” she continues, “you can view the menu and place your orders directly. Should you need anyadditional services arranged,you can send a request to me by pressing the ‘Concierge’ button in the upper right corner.” She smiles, showing off her perfectly straight teeth. “Enjoy yourselves.”
“Thank you,” Logan says, already pulling out his phone.
Low conversation hums all around us, with soft jazz playing in the background. This entire places oozes elegance, but oddly enough, it doesn’t feel pretentious.
As Claudia disappears into the shadows, I pick up our conversation where we left off. “Explain ‘Not exactly.’”
His lips curve as he uses his phone to scan the code. “I promise I’ll do that in a bit. But I think we could both use a drink right now, so pick your poison, Pip.” He slides the phone over to me so I can peruse the menu.
The specialty cocktails are decadent blends of high-end liquor, house-made infusions, and unexpected additions like milky oolong, smoked rosemary, or honeycomb. Their names—like Velvet Sin, Scarlett Kiss, and Midnight Rendezvous—are as sexy as the atmosphere.
My fingers hover over the screen as I narrow it down to two different drinks. “Should I choose posh and mysterious? Or wicked and dangerous?”
“Why not both?” Logan’s expression is definitely leaning toward the latter.
Well, okay then. I guess it’s going to be one of those nights. My toes curl in excitement.
I return his smile. “Both it is.”
18
LOGAN
“I can’t believethis place is right around the corner from my apartment, and I had no idea it existed.” Rosie is halfway through her second cocktail when she starts the interrogation. “Spill, Edwards. If you haven’t been here before, how did you find it? And why didClaudia the Conciergeact like she knows you?”
I have to refrain from laughing when she says our concierge’s name like a curse.
“My, my, is that jealousy I detect?”
“You wish.” She glares.
Oh, Rosie, you can get possessive over me anytime.
I lean into her, placing a hand over her bare knee and rubbing the silky-smooth skin with my thumb. “Don’t worry, Pip. I’ve never seen Claudia before. I assume she knew how to address me because every access code is personalized. My name was probably on her tablet.”
Rosie thinks about that as she sips from her glass—some cherry, blood orange, and bourbon concoction. “I had no ideaanybusinesses existed below street level around here.”
